Episode 71. Broken Conviction
I laughed as I watched the Old Dragon General burn. There was no one left to see, so I could laugh freely—mocking his death, scorning his life, savoring the flames that consumed him.
Laughing, I drew the Black Cat Blade once more and scattered lotus fire incense in every direction.
“Burn…”
This fire was my gift to the martial world.
Ever since the day the Zaha Inn burned, my ordinary life had vanished into ash, and I was dragged into this twisted world. This was retribution—a fair share of the same torment I’d been given, now delivered to the Old Dragon himself.
Along with him, I burned every faint trace of a normal life I had left. I slashed at shadows, set fire to memories, laughed until the flames swallowed the ceiling—and then, distant voices pierced the roar of the inferno.
“Senior Brother!”
Did I still have disciples?
“Master!”
Was I still anyone’s master?
I repeated those words—Senior Brother, Master—in my head, letting the sound echo inside the fire. Perhaps I’d gone mad with excitement.
Slowly, I recited the path I had walked.
“The tavern boy of Ilyang County. The grave keeper. The sickle master. The gambler who lost every duel. A third-rate martial wanderer. The man who fell to inner demons. The fish of Zhejiang…”
A mechanical groan echoed underfoot—the devices were melting. A thunderous crack split the hall as the floor collapsed into the pits below.
“Master! It’s me, Gunpyeong!”
“Three-hundred-shells Gunpyeong?” I murmured, blinking.
The burning vines above shattered, and through the embers emerged Gunpyeong and the others, faces blackened with soot.
“I told you to wait outside,” I said.
Gunpyeong shouted back, “The place was burning! What else were we supposed to do? Come on, cross over!”
Between us yawned a dark pit—nothing more than a small gap, yet to me it looked like the River of the Dead itself, separating the living from the damned.
Gunpyeong peered down and said, “There’s nothing in there, Master. It’s safe.”
“Alright.”
I leapt across lightly and landed beside them. My subordinates were all covered in soot like walking lumps of charcoal.
Baekin asked, “Did you set the fire yourself, Senior Brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s get out.”
I chuckled, taking the lead. “Let’s go.”
Gunpyeong grumbled, “What’s so funny?”
“Should I cry instead? I just burned down someone else’s house.”
Gunpyeong forced a laugh. “Ha… ha… ha… so this is what Qi Deviation feels like. I get it now.”
“Careful, Gunpyeong. There’s nothing scarier than inner demons.”
We cut through the fire together. Sometimes one of the officers blasted a path open with a palm strike, and we made it out of the burning villa without losing anyone.
Outside, the mountain villa was already collapsing into itself. Then came a muffled boom, and the flames surged higher.
Gunpyeong stared in awe. “That wasn’t just wood burning… there must’ve been gunpowder inside.”
“So it seems.”
Baekin exhaled deeply. “And the Old Dragon?”
“He burned before the villa did.”
“Good. Very good.”
We all looked at one another, blackened and exhausted, and burst out laughing.
Then I turned to the Unwu Society men—former enemies now stripped of their banners. “Where are the actors who went in first?”
“Here!” someone shouted.
Gunpyeong explained, “They escaped through the back gate with the villa’s servant. The servant said a big fight was coming and urged them to leave.”
“Lucky them,” I said. “They’re fine actors.”
“Yes, Master.”
I didn’t bother asking where the servant went. If he knew martial arts, he was already dead. Otherwise, it didn’t matter.
The burning mountain villa sank into the earth like a grave. Too many holes, too many traps. At least the fire wouldn’t spread—this was an isolated peak. Perhaps it was better this way: burn everything, and start anew.
“Let’s move.”
On the road back, the others kept pestering me about the battle. “What was it like inside, Master?”
“Full of contraptions,” I said simply.
Gunpyeong frowned. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
I glanced at Baekin. “He wasn’t any better than the Great Demon.”
Baekin nodded solemnly. “Understood.”
I stopped and faced them. “The Great Demon, Master Su, the Old Dragon—they’re all dead. Of them, the Great Demon was the most manly.”
“Then it’s settled,” Baekin said quietly.
Cheong Jin and Baek Yu nodded, their faces strangely relieved.
“The Unwu Society’s gone,” I declared. “Those who want to leave, leave. I won’t stop you. Those who stay—welcome to the Hao Sect. Black Cat Hall, Black Line Division, Unwu Society—all are Hao now.”
One of the former Unwu men raised a hand. “Master, what is this… Hao Sect?”
“A band of idiots and outcasts like you,” I said. “A shabby sect that will spread across the martial world by killing men like Master Su.”
Another asked, “Then… who’s the Sect Leader?”
“Me.”
“Aren’t you the Black Cat Hall Leader?”
“That’s me too.”
I turned toward the ruins. “Gunpyeong, you think Dokgo Saeng caused any trouble?”
“With Sister Hong Shin there? Not likely.”
“Good. The organization’s suddenly huge now, but don’t let it go to your heads. Sort things out with the senior officers and disciples—I’m no good with management.”
“Understood.”
“Do what you each do best. I’ll focus on growing stronger. That’s the sect leader’s job.”
I split paths with them at a fork in the road. “I’ll head to Black Cat Hall to deal with the prisoners. You lot finish up and return.”
Gunpyeong asked, “Who’ll manage Unwu for now? There might be trouble with guests or rival gangs.”
Baekin offered, “We’ll stay for now. We know who to kill and who to spare.”
“Good. Do as you see fit.”
* * *
I entered the hall and looked toward Yusa-cheong. “Been well?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Cha Sungtae didn’t bother you?”
“No, Master.”
I sat down at the head seat, glancing left at Yusa-cheong and right at Cha Sungtae.
Sungtae asked, “How did it go, sir?”
“What?”
“The battle with Master Su.”
“Ah. Su’s dead by the sword. The Old Dragon burned. The Great Demon now has company in the afterlife—an enemy and a friend both. All thanks to Yusa-cheong here.”
I looked at him. “You did well.”
“Thank you.”
Sungtae said, “Found out where he’s from. Calls himself Hoyun of the Sword Clan.”
I asked, “So, your name’s Hoyun too?”
“Yes. My real name is Hoyun-cheong.”
“From where?”
“Originally Dongboseok, now settled in Hongcheon Village.”
“That’s white-path territory. So you got driven out, huh?”
“Yes.”
I pointed at a sketch on the table. “Bring it here.”
Sungtae handed me the wanted poster of Gwangmyeong Left Envoy. I slid it across to Hoyun-cheong. “Find this man.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You don’t know him, do you?”
He bowed low. “Please spare me, Master. Give me poison if you must—I’ll find him before I ask for the antidote.”
I nodded. “No need. I’ve killed enough people today. A day that begins and ends in blood isn’t ideal.”
He exhaled shakily. “Thank you.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. Not everything can be forced.”
Just then, a subordinate announced, “Master, you have visitors.”
“Who?”
“Iron Dragon Sect Leader, Geum Cheolyong.”
“Send him in.”
Geum Cheolyong and Gwak Yonggae entered, the former smiling broadly. “Hard man to find, Sect Leader.”
I rose. “What brings you here so suddenly?”
“Crowds are stirring, but you’ve been missing, so I came myself.”
“You brought it, then?”
Gwak Yonggae set a black box with a dragon-engraved latch onto the table. Inside lay the new blade—Mad Edge.
The hilt and scabbard were ash gray, the end engraved with a dragon mark—Cheolyong’s signature. The blade was shorter than I expected, but gleamed like silver ice.
I realized not all the desired metals had been obtained. Still, it was a gift of heart, not steel.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Try it,” Cheolyong urged.
I lifted the blade. Heavier than expected. I unsheathed it slowly; the pale light reflected on my face.
“I’ll use it well.”
“You like it?” he asked nervously.
“Very much.”
Weapon forger or warrior alike—everyone wants to test a new blade.
“Got anything to cut?” Cheolyong asked.
My gaze drifted to Hoyun-cheong. He flinched and dropped to his knees. “Spare me!”
Cheolyong and Gwak Yonggae both blinked in surprise.
I looked at him calmly. “Why would I kill you?”
Then, smiling faintly, I drew the Black Cat Blade with my left hand and held both swords aloft. “Cheolyong, no regrets?”
He seemed to realize what I intended and nodded. “None.”
“Vice Chief Gwak?”
“I’m confident,” he said.
I channeled equal energy into both swords and clashed them in midair.
Thoom!
The sound was deep and metallic. Sparks flew—and half of Mad Edge’s blade snapped clean off.
Cheolyong, Yonggae, and Sungtae all froze. Even Hoyun-cheong blinked in disbelief.
I looked down at the broken sword. “So this is a broken conviction. The Black Cat Blade wins.”
Cheolyong scratched his head awkwardly. “Ha… that’s quite a sword. Where did you get it?”
“It belonged to the former Black Cat Hall Leader,” I said.
Yonggae sighed. “We fell short, big brother.”
Cheolyong nodded. “Seems so.”
Yonggae quickly gathered the broken pieces, reclaimed the sword, and sealed the box again. “Let’s go, brother.”
Cheolyong turned to me. “I’ll return, Sect Leader.”
I bowed slightly. “No rush. I’ll keep using this one until then.”
He left, shoulders heavy. “Come, Gwak.”
He stumbled once, and Gwak caught him. Together they left the hall.
I coughed lightly and sat again. Cha Sungtae was barely suppressing laughter.
“Don’t laugh, you idiot.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Everyone fails sometime. Even me. You wouldn’t know—you’ve never done anything worth failing at.”
In truth, there are only a handful of weapons in the entire martial world that never break. Mine hadn’t even arrived yet.
Until then, the Black Cat Blade would suffice.